French Origin
by All Stories GO
Summary: Matt and Mello... well, let's just say that Matt's story is a lot different than you think. :Rating subject to change:


First story... ever. :3 Enjoy.

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The boy stared up at the building, feeling alone in the cold winter chill. Though a very nice man had led the red-head to safety and comfort, the boy was smart enough to know that it was only empathy.

Green eyes sweeped across the snow-covered ground and looked in the frosted windows, only to be met by a few curious gazes. The trees outside were flecked with snow and the roof looked like a quilt.

Tall gates blocked the outside world from getting in. The 11 year old watched warily as they opened silently, allowing him and the nice man to be let in. The boy assumed that somebody inside was controlling the gates, because the man hadn't touched them.

Matt's red hair stood our against the darkening blue sky and white snow. He was easy to see for the kids at the window. And what a site he was: A white, short-sleeve shirt covered his torso and dark blue jeans went all the way down to his heels. The jeans were frayed at the ends and were held up by a black belt. Matt's feet were bare and his eyes were covered by some orange-tinted goggles.

The belt also held a sock monkey that was slightly burnt here and there. It was slipped between the belt and Matt's jeans, the legs dangling loosely. Matt had enough dignity not to carry it, but he couldn't have beared to leave it behind in the ashes. It was, after all, the only thing besides himself that had survived the fire.

So Matt walked up the cobblestone pathway with the man known as Watari to the orphanage and didn't give any of the kids staring at him a glance. Matt had never been much of a people person, so as Watari explained that not many people held residence here, he was relieved. Well, Matt had never had a chance to be a people person in the first place, so it would only be logical that he wasn't 'much of a people person'.

Soon enough, Matt was being led down a hallway. Watari was explaining about classes when Matt interrupted.

"Excusez-moi, but if it is not of any... bother, I would prefer... er... private teaching?" said Matt, stumbling over the English words(his first language was French). It came out like a question, though Matt had not meant it to.

"Of course you may have private teaching," replied Watari with a smile. "Anything else you request?"

"Some clothing of this would be...nice," replied Matt, gesturing to his shirt and jeans.

Watari nodded. Soon they were in front of a wooden door with a brass number 6 on it. "This is your dorm, Matt," said Watari, handing him 2 slips of paper. "And here is your schedule and a map. Lunch is at 11:30 AM. Your private classes start at 9 AM sharp. Don't be late," with a small smile he added, "Welcome to Wammy's," and left.

Matt sighed and turned towards the door. He opened it and stepped inside, looking around. The room was relatively plain; white walls, dark hardwood floor, and 2 beds with nightstands and dressers to match. The bed on the far side of the room, by the window, looked completely unused. The opposite bed towards the door, however, looked like a hurricane had hit it.

The sheets were sprawled, papers were scattered, and text books formed something of a wall around the bed on the floor. Matt sighed and shut the door quietly, taking a step into the room. Despite the mess, the room seemed to have a tidy feel to it.

Matt walked over to the far bed. He patted it, sending a small mushroom of dust in the air. He coughed slightly and got to work.

Matt stripped the bed, humming as he did and sneezing every now and then. Matt shook out the dust and, noticing that the sheets had silk in them(he hated silk- it brought back bad memories), threw them on the ground. He did throw the comforter back on the mattress, though, as it was all cotton. He kept the pillowcase, also.

The red-head slipped his sock-monkey from it's place and set it on the pillow. Matt crawled on top of the bed and almost instantly fell asleep.

Mello came back from classes that day and was met with a not-so-pleasant surprise.

On the bed that had previously had nobody on it and nobody to claim it was a boy with red hair and rather thin frame. He was sprawled across the bed, one arm dangling over the edge, with the other under the pillow. Mello noted the sock monkey that was on the floor next to the bed, snickering to himself.

Mello studied the boy for a few more seconds before slamming the door shut out of habit. The boy on the bed stirred a bit, but only to flip his head the other way and continue to doze. Mello surveyed the room and saw that none of his stuff had been messed with besides his pillow, which held a note card.

Mello walked over and picked it up, tucking his blonde hair behind his ear. It read:

_Mello,_

_Apologies for the short notice, but you may have noticed a new boy in your room. His name is Matt. He is French, so he may have trouble communicating, but he should be fine for the most part. Matt arrived here around 2 PM, so try not to wake him up._

_Just a fair warning: he can be violent when he wants to. However he is, for the most part, quiet and calm. He doesn't talk much. _

_Cheers,_

_Roger_

Mello balled his hand into a fist, crumpling the note. There was a certain hanging 'Or else,' after Roger's signature, though it wasn't written. He tossed the paper over his shoulder and thought, _How the hell do they know he's sleeping? _to himself.

Mello glanced back at the boy and decided it would be best not to bother him. _Besides, _he thought, _Matt would be much more fun if he wasn't tired when I bothered him._


End file.
